


Help me feel, even at gunpoint

by HedgehogWrites



Series: Fics of violent desire [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Draco is a hitwizard, Gen, Gun Violence, Harry is a crime journalist, I mean: nobody can have consensual sex at gunpoint, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Seriously: Draco says fuck as if he’s in a Pulp Fiction movie ×, Sort Of, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgehogWrites/pseuds/HedgehogWrites
Summary: ‘I’m not. But I wouldn’t mind.’ He turns his head back to Malfoy and sees his own arousal reflected.‘Fuck.’ Malfoy stands and rubs his hands through his hair. ‘I never do this, Potter. I just kill and leave. It’s what I do. This... it’s just a diversion.’A non-con fic starring a gun, a very unhappy Harry and a Draco with a job as hitwizard. They meet under dire circumstances. Smutty fic. You get to choose your own ending.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Fics of violent desire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620805
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Help me feel, even at gunpoint

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is non-con. Draco has sex with Harry. It’s sort of consensual, Harry wants it bad, but there can be no real consent, as there’s a gun pointed to his head. If this thing triggers you, please don’t read! I don’t want you feeling bad because of something I wrote.
> 
> I’m a sucker for happy endings, but in this case a rather unhappy one just flowed out. You get to choose though. Three endings. But please heed the warnings, as two of the fic endings have major character deaths. The first ending is the happy end. So if you don’t want it, you can just skip the unhappy ones.

‘We cannot warn you enough: should you encounter the suspect, do not try to approach him yourself, but contact the aurors immediately. You can also contact the Quibblers anonymus tip line by owl or firecall the auror department. This is crime reporter Harry Potter for the Quibbler News Group’ Harry wraps up the broadcast.

‘Thanks, Ron’

‘Anytime, mate.’

Ron has joined his broadcast as senior auror officer, to warn the people about a convicted Death Eater that has escaped Azkaban. They hope the tips will help them bring him back in.

Ever since Harry left the aurors to become ‘wizard’s greatest crime reporter’, a title the media gave him and which he hates, he has stayed connected to the force. Not all aurors are as friendly towards Harry as Ron is, since he outed corruption scandal after corruption scandal on the QNG. Harry likes to think it has made the world a better place to live in, but he’s sure not all ministry workers feel the same. Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way. His work gives his life a new meaning.

‘Aren’t you coming with me? Hermione would love to have you over.’ Ron asks.

‘No, not today. I have a date with a platter of sushi and a lovely bottle of Mirin wine.’ Harry replies.

‘Sounds good. I wish I could join you. ‘Mione has cooked dinner tonight.’ Seeing his best friends face contort with aversion, Harry laughs and slaps his shoulder. ‘It’s the greenish lasagna.’ Ron stage-whispers as he shudders with horror.

‘I feel for you, Ronniekins.’ They all know Hermione’s cooking. It’s... well, gruesome feels like a rather understated word for it. Her idea of healthy food is undercooking all things that should be tender, adding sea weed and algae powders and reducing any fats. It wouldn’t be a problem, if she didn’t burn half off the food she served. He smiles to himself as he imagines her in the kitchen, fighting the food, wanting to show it who’s boss. She’s his other best friend, but when he visits, he makes sure Ron is cooking or he offers to cook and brings his own food.

‘I’ll be off. Best of luck! I’ll think of you when I’m biting in my avocado salmon nigiri.’ He ducks as Ron swats at him.

‘Thanks for the support, mate. I’ll remember you throwing me in front of the lions when I write my will.’ Ron mutters.

‘Seriously, give her my love, okay? Tell her I’ll visit soon. Tonight I need a quiet night. I’ve been far too busy these last weeks.’

‘I know, she thinks you work too hard. And that you didn’t take enough time to recover from the threats in your last case.’ Harry had been run over by a car and was dragged by it halfway across town by two hitwizards that luckily hadn’t been in the business for long. Nor did they have their driving license. Hermione has been worried ever since. But Harry hasn’t felt a thing. No anger, no fear. Nothing. It’s been a while since he’s felt anything, really. Must be a professional deformation. Living with fear making him fearless or something.

‘I know she does. I promise I will do something about it. But not tonight.’ He hugs Ron. He pats his back in return.

‘Take care, Harry. Happy wanking!’ Ron waves as Harry walks to his favorite sushi joint. Wanking, he contemplates, another thing he hasn’t felt the need for in a long time. Coming to think about it, he can’t remember the last time he’s been aroused at all. Maybe he does need to see a mindhealer. But not today, he thinks, as he whistles across the street.

***

Bottle in one hand, take out box in the other, Harry crosses his street. Strange, he could’ve sworn he had turned off the lights? Must’ve been in too much of a hurry this morning. Fumbling for his keys, he manages to open the door, bottle of wine clutched between his legs. As he enters his cozy living, he has to put down his food container, to prevent all that lovely sushi from toppling over. That’s when he notices. The moon reflecting on something in his living, something metallic, something shiny, something that normally isn’t in his house. Something a lot like a gun with a silencer screwed on. He hears the safety latch of the gun click.

Auror training kicking in directly, he pulls out his wand.

‘Don’t’. A clipped voice comes from his large recliner. Harry freezes. He senses the strangers tone tolerates no contradiction.

Carefully, he lowers his wand. ‘Who are you?’

‘Shush. Down.’ The stranger gestures his gun downwards. Deliberately Harry puts his wand on the ground.

‘Now, kick it towards me.’

He does as he is told, putting his hands up in the air. The stranger picks it up. The recliner is in the shadows. Harry can’t make out the strangers face. Silence follows. Harry’ll be damned if he’s the first to break it.

A car passes his street, lighting up the strangers face for a moment. Malfoy. Harry keeps his face schooled, even if his first instinct is to yell out in surprise. He sees Malfoy has noticed his recognition nevertheless. Harry stays silent. There’s no sound but the ticking of his clock.

‘I thought it would give me pleasure.’ Malfoy’s voice breaks the silence, startling Harry.

‘When I opened my assignment. I thought it would bring me fucking pleasure.’ Malfoy clarifies.

Harry swallows.

‘But it doesn’t. It’s just a job. You’re just a job. Like all the others.’ Malfoy points the gun at Harry. ‘On your knees, hands behind your head.’

Harry gets on his knees and closes his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He puts his hands in his neck.

‘I didn’t expect you would be a freezer. You know, people fight, flight or freeze. I’ve seen it all. It gets so fucking tiring sometimes.’ Malfoy sighs. ‘No pleading? No last wishes?’

Harry waits.

‘Why don’t you beg? It’s what they all do.’

Opening his eyes, Harry replies. ‘Would you please just get on with it? I get you want to punish me, but please don’t draw it out.’ He is surprised how calm and collected he feels at gunpoint. Not feeling anything has become his second nature.

‘Always the martyr, eh, Potter?’ He hears a soft chuckle and the sound of the safety latch returning in its place. Malfoy lowers the gun.

‘Don’t you want answers?’ Malfoy looks at him inquiringly, head cocked to the side.

‘Why? You’re going to kill me anyway. What use is it?’

‘Some journalist you are. Okay. Suit yourself.’ Malfoy raises the gun again, his finger on the trigger. Harry sees a flicker of hesitation. ‘Why don’t you challenge me? Where is your fucking spirit?’

‘I think that’s what having a gun aimed at you does to a person, Malfoy.’

‘I wanted you to be different. I wanted you to be unlike the string of others.’ His hand shakes. Malfoy lowers the gun and runs his hand through his hair.

‘Why?’

‘I... because I’m so sick and tired of this fucking job, Potter.’ He averts his head as he gets up from the recliner and starts pacing the room.

‘I hate to tell you, Malfoy, but I’m not very interested in comforting you right now.’

Malfoy hits him hard with the grip of the gun. Harry feels his jaw crunching as a bolt of pain shoots through him. ‘Fuck you, Potter.’ Malfoy grabs his hair and pulls him towards his face. Malfoy breathes in his ear. ‘I could do anything to you right now. I’d better watch that mouth if I were you.’

Harry feels a strange sensation wash over him. He knows it’s wrong. He knows it’s probably Stockholm Syndrome. But he feels arousal well up.

Of course Malfoy notices it too. His eyes roam over Harry’s cock. ‘Bloody hell, Potter.’

Harry’s eyes defiantly flick to Malfoy’s. ‘Don’t you fucking dare judge me.’

‘Fuck.’ Malfoy crouches down in front of him. ‘Maybe you are bloody different after all.’ His tongue trails his bottom lip.

Harry looks outside. His arms are starting to cramp. His eyes shoot back at Malfoy. ‘All this talk, and so little action? Or are you scared, ferret?’ The use of the old nickname stirs something in him. He notices he isn’t the only one.

Malfoy’s eyes darken. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Saviour’ He puts the gun on Harry’s forehead. He doesn’t flinch. Malfoy swiftly moves the gun to the left and shoots it once. With a muffled thud the bullet impacts on Harry’s wall. He ejects the gun’s magazine in one fluid movement and tosses it onto the recliner. Malfoy rubs the gun over Harry’s lips. ‘Suck.’

Harry pliantly opens his mouth. ‘Gods.’ Malfoys voice comes out hoarse as he pushes the gun in. Harry hollows his cheeks and sucks it in, eyes never leaving Malfoy’s. Malfoy groans and pulls out the gun. A trickle of spit slides off it. He lets the cool metal slide down from Harry’s chin to his throat, leaving a tingling cold trail. He rests the nuzzle at the top of Harry’s tight fitted black shirt. Harry swallows. Using the nuzzle, he whips open the top two buttons, sliding the gun inside. He caresses Harry’s chest with the silencer. Harry’s breath hitches as the cold metal of the nuzzle slides over his nipple, hardening it in an instant.

Malfoy chuckles. ‘Yeah, you are definitely fucking different after all.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never been offered sex before. What’s a bit of sex in exchange of a life? I bet it happens all the time.’

Malfoy’s look is smoldering. ‘Yes, Potter. I’ve been offered. But you’re not doing exactly that, are you? You’re not offering at all.’

Harry bites his lip and looks away. He is right. He didn’t offer anything. He just got freaking turned on from a gun to his head. He should’ve talked to that mindhealer when he had the chance. But as his life is probably ending soon, he’d better not waste the time he’s got left analyzing his feelings.

‘I’m not. But I wouldn’t mind.’ He turns his head back to Malfoy and sees his own arousal reflected.

‘Fuck.’ Malfoy stands and rubs his hands through his hair. ‘I never do this, Potter. I just kill and leave. It’s what I do. This... it’s just a fucking diversion.’ He walks back to the recliner and picks up the magazine.

‘Okay. Just do it then.’ Harry blinks slowly.

Malfoy stands still. Gun in one hand, magazine in the other. Harry can sense his indecision. Malfoy thrusts the magazine in.

‘Potter, why isn’t anything ever easy with you?’ Malfoy looks at him in exasperation before he closes the distance and hauls Harry to his feet. Feet not working properly from the awkward sitting position, Harry stumbles. Malfoy throws the gun onto the sofa as he pushes Harry onto the recliner and straddles him. He captures Harry’s mouth in a rough kiss. Harry opens his lips to give Malfoy better access. Malfoy groans as he plunders his mouth.

The kiss is hot and aggressive. Malfoy’s hands pull Harry’s hair. It makes Harry groan into Malfoy’s mouth. He hasn’t felt anything like this in ages. Malfoy licks a stripe in his neck before getting up and opening his trousers. ‘I must bloody be out of my fucking mind.’ Malfoy mutters as he takes out his hard cock. Harry looks at him through hooded eyes. Malfoy’s pupils are so dilated, Harry can only see a slight sliver of grey. He’s sure he’s not doing better. Malfoy grabs his hair and feeds him his cock. Fuck, Harry thinks, he’d forgotten how arousing it was to taste another man. Malfoy thrusts in, not holding back. Harry chokes. Malfoy pulls back. ‘Sorry.’

Harry raises his dark eyebrows. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t be considerate. Use me.’

His eyes widen when the words sink in. ‘Sure?’

Harry nods. Malfoy thrusts his cock back in, making Harry gag again. It feels so good. Harry relaxes his throat, tilting his head backwards, so Malfoy can fuck his mouth better. He hears Malfoy’s groans, his breathing becoming heavy. Suddenly, he retreats. ‘I always knew you had a mouth on you, Potter. I didn’t know it could suck cock like this. If only I had known earlier.’ He smirks a lopsided grin. ‘The war might have ended a lot sooner, ‘cause I would’ve been too busy fucking you to repair the fucking closet.’ Harry feels the corner of his mouth tug up.

Malfoy uses a spell that undresses them and leaves their clothes of the sofa. That’s a useful one, Harry thinks, he must remember it. Harry feels the breeze from the spell ghost over his body. ‘Spell or lube?’ Malfoy asks.

‘Don’t care.’

Malfoy summons his lube. It’s a big, half empty jar that’s seen better days. ‘Damn, they haven’t made this fucking brand in years. Nobody wanted to fuck the Saviour? Bent him over this lovely fucking sofa? And I used to think you had it all.’

‘You do realize you say fuck a lot for someone who isn’t actually fucking yet, do you?’

Malfoy grins and lubes his fingers and lightly rubs Harry’s hole. He shivers. ‘Fucking hell, Malfoy! It’s cold. Arse.’

Malfoy grins as his finger breaches Harry’s hole. Harry gasps. Malfoy kisses him again while his long, slender fingers expertly work him open. ‘I’m ready.’ Harry tells him after the second finger enters.

‘No, you’re not.’

Harry raises an eyebrow. ‘Why the fuck do you care?’

‘Jesus, Potter. I’ll just split you open. See if I care. What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t want to feel that fucking pain, trust me.’

‘I do.’

‘Do what?’

‘Want to feel pain. Feel anything.’ Harry averts his eyes. He feels a blush creeping up. He hasn’t blushed in a decade.

‘You need to see a mindhealer, Potter. This isn’t okay. I’ve never seen anyone not flinching when there was a gun held at their head. And trust me, I’ve got some fucking experience in the matter.’ Malfoy seems to suddenly realize what he’s supposed to do to Harry and grimaces. He grabs Harry’s chin and forces him to look at him.

‘I’ll make it good for you. Okay? I’m not completely inhuman.’ He strokes Harry’s chin and lets his hand trail down, to his nipple. He pinches it, making Harry close his eyes in pleasure. His other hand keeps twisting an scissoring inside of Harry. His tongue licks stripes onto Harry’s neck, sucking at his pressure points. Harry whimpers.

‘Now you’re ready.’ Malfoy kneels in front of the recliner and slides Harry’s arse to the edge of it. He grabs his legs and puts them on his shoulders. Harry is pressed against the soft fabric of the recliner. Malfoy lines up his cock with Harry’s hole and pushes in, inch by inch. Harry has trouble relaxing. ‘It’s been some time.’

‘No shit.’ Malfoy grins as he halts to let Harry adjust to his cock. Harry looks at him. It’s difficult to grasp that this man, almost considerate and wanting to give Harry pleasure, is the same as his hotheaded, posh school bully and the cold blooded killer he saw earlier.

He feels his hole opening some more. Malfoy’s prick slides over the sensitive receptors inside his arse, making it easier. Carefully, Malfoy starts to move. Harry moans. It’s not entirely from pleasure. Yet. Malfoy puts one leg up, the other still in kneeling position, and grabs the armrests for better grip as he pounds in Harry.

‘Wank yourself.’ Malfoy’s voice is sinful and posh. Harry grabs his cock and slowly starts tossing. It feels good. A film of perspiration has formed on Malfoy’s body. Harry’s legs slide down a bit, resting over the arms of Malfoy. Suddenly one of Malfoy’s deep thrusts reaches the spot. The spot that makes Harry see white dots. He remembers why he liked having sex. What irony. Feelings returning when his life will end soon. Because he’s sure, Malfoy will end things. He knows his perseverance, knows how he never does things by half. And... his thoughts get interrupted, because The Spot is hit again and again. Harry moans. He is close already, not wanting it to end yet. He circles the base of his cock and squeezes to prevent himself from coming.

Malfoy looks at his movement, before looking him in the eyes, ‘Hot.’ Harry smiles a little lopsided smile. Malfoy keeps on pounding his arse. The thrusting becomes less controlled and Harry moans. He sucks in his bottom lip.

‘I won’t last long.’ The roughness in Malfoy’s posh voice sends a shiver down Harry’s spine.

‘Good. Me neither.’ Harry lets his hand fly over his cock again. The pleasure it brings is wonderful. Harry feels his cock tightening and swelling, knows he’s going to burst. Malfoy hits his prostate once again. He grunts as he releases his load and spoils it all over his own hand and the recliner. Malfoy follows suit and Harry watches his face contort with pleasure as he closes his eyes and comes with a rough grunt. He topples over, leaning into Harry, while his still half hard cock slides out.

Spent, they lie on the recliner for a little while, waiting for their breathing to even out. Malfoy gets up and casts a few cleaning charms. He dresses and tosses Harry his clothes too. ‘Mustn’t leave evidence.’ He half-jokes. The atmosphere changes. Malfoy looks at Harry from his standing position.

_***_   
_Here, you get to choose your ending. Which one do you like? The first is a happy ending._   
_***_

**The happy ending**

Malfoy flops down on the sofa, his elbows on his knees, hands twisting. He looks in deep thought. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and asks: ‘Do you think Weasley would listen to my story?’

Huh? ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I... You never did ask my why I was here, did you?’

He didn’t.

‘You should.’

‘Why are you here, Malfoy?’

‘After the war, no one would hire me. Reformed or not, the fucking death eater label stuck. The ministry made me a offer. I became an official, ministry payed fucking hitwizard. I’ve done in countless of malicious witches and diabolical evil wizards over time. But when I read your name, I knew. Knew it wasn’t okay. The whole fucking ministry is so bloody corrupted. The fuckers must want you to be stopped before you topple them over.’ He puts his head into his hands, elbows still on his knees. He rubs his face.

‘I think Ron would help you. But I think we stand an even better change if we broadcast this.’

Malfoy nods. ‘Do it.’

But no. They can’t do this. It will put Malfoy in jeopardy. He breaks out in sweat. He’s astonished to notice he feels something and that the feeling is strong. ‘Malfoy, I can’t ask this of you.’

‘Potter, always the Saviour of fluffy kittens and reformed hitwizards.’ Harry rolls his eyes. ‘You’re not asking. I’m offering.’

Harry watches him intently. ‘I’m not sure if I can protect you until the trial.’

‘I know. I don’t care.’

‘If that’s the case, we’ll best start working.’ Harry gets up. He feels energized. He contacts his production team, telling them he’s got the story of the year. Together they will make it work. If, that is, Malfoy doesn’t distract him from the task at hand with his perfect cock. He grins to himself. All will be well.

***

_WARNING: both endings that follow have a major character death! Don’t read if you feel uncomfortable. Promise?_

***

 **The sad ending**  
  
Spent, they lie on the recliner for a little while, waiting for their breathing to even out. Malfoy gets up and casts a few cleaning charms. He dresses and tosses Harry his clothes too. ‘Mustn’t leave evidence.’ He half-jokes. The atmosphere changes. Malfoy looks at Harry from his standing position. Harry watches him as he picks up the gun. ‘I’m sorry, Harry. I really am.’

‘I know, Draco.’ The name feels strange on his tongue. Harry swallows.

‘Would you like to close you eyes?’

‘No.’

Malfoy removes the safety. He looks torn apart.

‘Don’t prolong the inevitable, please.’ Harry‘s voice isn’t as steady as he would’ve liked it to be.

‘I’m really fucking sorry.’ A tear slides down Malfoy’s cheek as he fires the gun. Harry’s eyes lock onto Malfoy’s, before his head feels like it’s exploding. He sinks into nothingness. He will never know how Malfoy gently tucks his hair behind his ears and presses a kiss onto it. ‘I’m so fucking sorry, Harry.’ He whispers as he expertly cleans the room before leaving.

***

  
**The unexpected ending**

Spent, they lie on the recliner for a little while, waiting for their breathing to even out. Malfoy gets up and casts a few cleaning charms. He dresses and tosses Harry his clothes too. ‘Mustn’t leave evidence.’ He half-jokes. The atmosphere changes. Malfoy looks at Harry from his standing position.

Harry looks back. Something in his eyes is off. Malfoy looks questioningly, as if he wonders what it is. Harry spells his clothing on. The spell is a useful one indeed. He watches as the gears in Malfoy’s head click in place. He sees his eyes widen and the horror showing on his face, as he whirls around and dashes for the gun. Harry waits until he’s got it.

‘Avada Kedavra.’ Harry’s voice is clear as the green light hits Malfoy. His ability for wandless magic has always been a life saver. He knows he could’ve used any other spell to disarm him, but Malfoy would’ve gotten the kiss in the end. He tells himself he wouldn’t have wanted that.

He gets up and looks at Malfoy. ‘Thank you for making me feel, even if it was just for a little while’, he whispers as he wishes it would’ve been enough to let him live. He doesn’t feel anything as he picks up Malfoy’s wand and vanishes Malfoy’s body with a flick of his hand. Maybe next time, he thinks as he promises himself he will make an appointment with a mind healer tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you read all the endings?  
> Which one did you like best?


End file.
